


Hellish

by TwinPhases



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Hate to Love, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinPhases/pseuds/TwinPhases
Summary: In a universe where Voldemort does not exist, Hogwarts students study magic in peace, although blood purism and house rivalries still exist. Draco Malfoy, being the leader of the Slytherin purebloods, finds it his responsibility to continue the age-old despisal toward Gryffindors and all muggle-borns. What no one is aware of is the fact that he is most unfortunately infatuated with the worst of them all, Harry Potter, the Gryffindor prince and protector of blood tainters. Draco was going to keep this thoroughly a secret until it passed on, as all boyish emotions do, but when Potter gets engaged to the Weasely girl, he becomes so drunk that he kisses someone he mistook as Potter. Among bits and pieces of memory from the night, Draco is sure he called this someone by Potter's name. If he is to prevent any future humiliation, Draco must find this person and silence him.The Slytherin Prince's 6th year is about to get hectic, instinctive, and heatedly interesting.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Edmund Pevensie
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Blood in the cut (1)

Draco Malfoy was infatuated with Harry Potter. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. Draco Malfoy was many things but never a lovesick fool. 

Part of the situation he could only blame on destiny, if such a thing did exist. And by part of the situation, he meant the fact that he is in Slytherin whilst Potter is in bloody Gryffindor. A cherry on top was another fact that Draco's father Lucius and Potter's father James were kind of the sworn enemies of Hogwarts according to its recent history. In respect of both his house and his father, Draco did not have any choice in befriending Potter. Since the first day they met at Hogwarts, only thorny remarks have been exchanged when the two encountered each other. In honesty, Draco could not even fathom how he became infatuated in the first place, but it happened without him noticing. It was probably all the stupid things that Potter did in the name of bravery that made Draco laugh. Or perhaps it was the energy he felt surging in him whenever he competed with Potter in Quidditch. Or perhaps it was the way Potter's dark hair glistened in the sun, not at all like Draco's own pale hair. Whichever was the case, by the time Draco noticed, it was too late.

Still, it was alright (bearable) stealing glances in Potter's direction and chasing the other boy's movements in the guise of glaring and plotting to stab the boy in the back. Draco could get over this childish and humiliating crush in time. Meanwhile, he would release his physical desire with nameless girls.

That was, until Potter began dating that red-headed Weasley girl in the 6th year.

Draco realized it when the female Weasley sat very close to Potter and kissed the boy's cheek before the first morning feast in the Great hall. All Slytherins grimaced at the disgusting sight of two of the most despised Gryffindors joined at the hip, so Draco stayed rigid for longer than he usually allowed himself when shocked in public. It was not that he expected his _feelings_ (did he just really think that?) to be returned ever, but seeing Potter actually in a relationship with another person, Draco felt as if he were hit on the head. 

Then it became worse with every Quidditch game that Gryffindor won or Potter caught the snitch. Ginevra Weasley, ever being the type, always ran toward Potter and gave him a kiss while they were still on the open field where everyone could see them. It made Draco gag. 

The worst had hit him the day Gryffindor beat Slytherin. Gryffindors were already merrily celebrating in the Great Hall, and in the middle of the crowd were their beloved lovebirds, Potter and Weasley. Sulking with others at Slytherin's table, Draco witnessed Potter sliding a ring through Weasley's fourth finger. The boy knelt down, said something, and Weasley, tearful, nodded. The Gryffindor table erupted with another louder shouts of joy and celebration. 

"Ugh, now I've lost my appetite," commented Blaise Zabini from Draco's side. He nudged Draco. "Hey, you coming for the consolation drinks?" 

Taking his eyes off of the happy couple, Draco rubbed his face roughly as he nodded. "Yeah. I've got to see Pansy first."

Blaise wriggled his brows. "Ah, getting it on before you waste the night away? Not bad, Malfoy, not bad. Guess I'll see you in a bit then."   
Draco nodded again tiredly, and Blaise left the table with some of the other Slytherin students who were just about ready to get away from the loud Gryffindors and begin drinking. Draco stood and left the Great Hall himself to head to the library. Nobody visited there the night of the Quidditch game, and naturally, the quiet and dark corner near the restricted section became his spot for a quickie with Pansy Parkinson.

When he got to the entrance of the library, Pansy was already there waiting, twirling a lock of her hair, clearly bored. 

"Why are you outside?" Asked Draco.

"There's some idiot who's studying in the library tonight," Pansy complained, nodding her head toward something inside the library. 

The first thing Draco saw through the crack in the door was a black mob of hair. Its owner had his head lowered close to the opened book, obviously engrossed in whatever he was reading. _Potter?_ was Draco's initial panicked thought. But it was not Potter. He would never be seen near the library unless his bookworm of a friend Granger forced him to. There was also the fact that Potter was likely still celebrating his victory and new engagement in the Great Hall. This was someone else.

Trying to see closer, Draco leaned on the door and ended up making it creak. The boy reading the book raised its head to the sharp noise, finally revealing his face lit by the amber candlelight. The face significantly lacked the black-rimmed spectacles Potter always wore, and the eyes that met Draco's gaze were not bright green either. They were dark and not as shallow. 

It was Edmund Pevensie. The odd muggle-born of Slytherin. 

The moment Pevensie recognized the two at the entrance, his face though unchanged entirely from its blank expression somehow gave off a disapproving look. Clearly, the other boy knew Draco and Pansy planned to shag and found it pathetic that they planned to do it in the holy library. "Please leave," Edmund said calmly yet impactfully. 

Pansy huffed with disdain. "We wouldn't step in the same room as you anyway, _mudblood_."

Pevensie might have furrowed his brows a little bit at that last remark, but Pansy had shut the door loudly before Draco could really see. 

"That mudblood, ugh, thinks he's something just because he's scored twelve O's last year," Pansy muttered bitterly. She rolled her eyes but then changing her attitude completely, looked up at Draco and purred, "Let's go somewhere else, Draco. We could probably go outside by the lake and do it under the moonlight."

However, any inclination Draco had earlier towards having sex with Pansy had evaporated after that moment of panic thinking Pevensie was Potter. His inside felt cold and dead. He dismissively waved his hand at Pansy as he rubbed his face. "Never mind that anymore. I think I'd rather go downstairs for the drinks now."

Pansy glared at Draco in exasperation. She grabbed Draco's wrist, who began to walk away, and slapped his face. Pained and stressed but not surprised, Draco scowled and glared back.

"That's it. We're done, Malfoy. I'm so tired of your shitty behaviour every time. I'm not some empty bin you can just dump all your rubbish into."

Finishing her sentence spitefully, Pansy waited to see if Draco would say anything back, but realizing he would not, she turned around and stomped off in anger. 

Draco did not even follow her with his gaze. He just stared down at the floor. It was not the first time he was dumped like this. Before Pansy, there were other girls whom he used as an insufficient substitute for Potter. Never was real affection involved. 

Just then, the library door creaked again behind him. Draco glanced back to see Pevensie exiting the library with a few books in his arms. Their eyes met, Draco's grey ones and Pevensie's near black ones. It was Pevensie who looked away first, but not in a way of avoiding conflict. It seemed more that he did not want to waste his time with Draco. That made Draco scowl more, but too tired, he let Pevensie pass by silently and walked toward the Slytherin common room. 

* * *

After many shots of firewhisky, at which point even Blaise seemed a little concerned for him, Draco stumbled out of the Slytherin house. It was too hot and stuffy inside. He needed some fresh air. 

As soon as he neared the dark and empty courtyard, a cool breeze swept past him. Inhaling deeply, Draco closed his eyes and felt the wind flow around him, through his fingers and hair. 

All seemed quiet and peaceful out here, unlike Draco's own mind. When he recognized his obsession with Potter as what it really was during their third year, Draco did not expect it to last so long or be as complicated as this. At this rate, he would need to find a potion recipe or a charm that could wipe out all memories he had of Potter. 

Then Draco heard something in between the rustling of the wind, something like a page being turned. His vision blurred somewhat by the severe alcohol consumption, Draco looked around and grimaced to find the source of the noise. He was already seen (or heard) being dumped today. He would not allow himself to be seen drunk and sentimental by someone else as well. The page-flicking was coming from the centre of the courtyard, where its currently unused fountain stood. Draco saw a silhouette sitting behind the statue and trudged toward it. 

Under the faint moonlight, Draco saw a pitch black crown of a head bent down toward an opened book held on the lap. 

"Potter?" Draco muttered to himself.

Evidently he spoke loud enough for the unidentified figure to hear as well, and the figure raised its head only to reveal a white blob. Draco's drunken eyes could not bring the face to the right focus. 

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

The voice rang in Draco's head like a muffled yell, but he could clearly pick up the contempt in the voice.

Ah, so Potter it was, always looking Draco's way with hatred and saying dumb, ineffective insults. Wonder why he was out here in the courtyard when his whole house must still be celebrating their victory? Draco thought as he plopped down next to the Potter-figure. The boy smelled clean, like snow, which was odd considering Potter must have sweated a lot today. In fact, everything felt abnormal about Potter this afternoon, including the fact that he bloody proposed to a Weasley when they were not even eighteen yet. Mad, this boy. 

"You are _so_ stupid, Potter. To think to marry a _Weasley_ of all the choices. And you know? However much you preach about getting along with 'muggle-borns' you are marrying another pureblood yourself! What a hypocrite you are. Yeah, that's right, you Harry Potter, a hypocrite." 

The figure beside him sighed and closed the book after marking where he was reading. Again, odd. Since when did Potter read so much?

"You're drunk." The voice said.

Unbothered at all, Draco continued. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm a hypocrite too." I've had bloody _feelings_ for you, for three years. Draco swallowed the words he might have continued to spill, not quite ready to reveal as much. 

There was another sigh from the side. 

This angered Draco. Did Harry Potter even know how much emotion Draco had been wasting unnecessarily because of him? How could he dismiss Draco with a sigh? 

Suddenly an idea hit Draco's mind. It was definitely a foolish and mad idea, but heavily under the influence of firewhisky, Draco did not mind foolish and mad at the moment. 

If today was the happiest day in Harry Potter's life, why not make it also the _worst_ day? The day he gets engaged, and also the day he is **kissed** by his most hated enemy. Part of the plan was to relieve Draco of his desire once and for all but also to torment Potter by reminding him of having been kissed by _the_ Draco Malfoy at the night of every engagement anniversary. At that thought, Draco smiled cruelly. 

"You know, Potter? I still do have an amazing engagement gift for you."

"Malfoy, I'm not-"

As soon as the voice tiredly began to speak again, Draco grabbed the figure's collar and pulled him into a fierce kiss.

There was no movement from the other boy for a few seconds as if he was shocked frozen by Draco's behaviour. Draco took this brief moment to pry open the boy's lips and sneak his tongue inside. As soon as Draco's tongue reached the other boy's, it startled him awake from the stupefaction. Their mouths still connected, the Potter-figure began to struggle, trying to get away, but Draco was able to grab both hands of the boy with one hand, immobilising them, as his other hand grabbed the boy's face and pulled it forward. The kiss immediately deepened, and as Draco moved his tongue inside to scan every bit of the mouth he had invaded, helpless moans of complaint from the other boy reverberated from his throat to Draco's. 

Ha, the good and mighty Harry Potter, _helpless_! The moans were a sign that Draco was making the boy feel _good_ , possibly even better than the times he was kissed by the Weasley girl.

The triumph fueled Draco, and he delved more deeply into the boy. When he caressed the teeth with his tongue, the boy shuddered and made Draco grin wickedly. When Draco felt the other boy's body growing increasingly limp in his semi-embrace and was sure there won't be any more struggle, he untangled his tongue from the boy's and sucked on the lips lightly before trailing the kiss down the boy's chin and neck. The skin felt cool on Draco's lips, and just as he unbuttoned the boy's shirt and reached the collarbone, Draco heard a sharply inhaled breath by his ear. The sound made his lower body stiff with excitement, heat beginning to bubble its way up.

How about it, Potter? Draco thought. Doesn't this feel so good, so much so you possibly won't ever be able to go back to that blood traitor girl, huh?

A sudden urge to corrupt the relationship emerged in Draco's mind. What if he made a noticeable mark that showed everyone that the boy was Draco's? The engagement might continue unharmed but the Weasley girl would certainly question Potter forever regarding who left the mark on his neck the night of the engagement. What's better, whenever Potter looked in the mirror, he would see the mark and be reminded of Draco. The longer that mark lasts, the better.

With that drunken conclusion, Draco kissed his way up the boy's neck and bit the side of it with all his desire. He felt his canine teeth tear through the soft skin and sink in. There was a short cry of pain followed by a faint taste of blood.

So satisfied with the bite he took, Draco did not realize that the boy in front of him had recovered his sanity and grabbed the book from his lap with his now freed hands.

Before Draco knew it, the thick, hard cover of the book had hit him squarely on the head, and his world faded into black nothing. 

* * *

When Draco opened his eyes, the sky was still dark. Blaise was looking down at him with a half-concerned and half-amused look. Draco could feel the grass blades between his fingers. He was lying on the courtyard. 

"What happened?" He groggily asked. He tried to sit up, but his temples began to throb too much. He rested on his elbows and grabbed his head in futile effort to stop the migraine.

Blaise tut-tutted as he helped Draco sit up more slowly. "I came up to see if you were alright, and you were just lying here like this," Blaise pointed at Draco's forehead, "with that bruise."

At Blaise's words, Draco frowned, which caused him some additional pain, and touched the left side of his head, flinching as soon as he touched it. The pain was indeed coming from his forehead near his temple, and it was swollen to the touch. 

"Wha-"

Draco's annoyed outburst was interrupted by a loud crash overhead. Blaise and Draco looked up just in time to see some sort of furniture fall out of the Gryffindor Tower's window. Bunch of boisterous laughter echoed out the shattered window frame. Blaise shook his head and tut-tutted again, with more derision this time. 

"Those fucking Gryffindors. They've been going at it all night. How are they _not_ tired?"

Draco followed Blaise's gesture and shook his head as well. Fucking Gryffindors, indeed.

Just then, through the shattered window, Draco saw the familiar spectacled face of the Gryffindor hero, shouting merrily with his red and obnoxious buds and hugging his new fiancée in one arm. That was not at all a face Harry Potter should have, or could have, after being kissed by Draco Malfoy. Nor did his exposed neck show any bite marks that Draco clearly remembered leaving earlier. The taste of blood was still there, lingering in his mouth.

Blood drained from Draco's face, and he vomited to his side.

Just who did he kiss tonight then?


	2. Blood in the cut (2)

Edmund woke up, annoyed. The left side of his neck stung as he moved his body, and purely out of reflex, he placed his hand on the wound.

He had tried to heal it himself last night, but for some reason, none of the spells, charms, or potions he used would work. Edmund could not visit Madam Pomfrey either because how would he explain that he was bitten by another human being? And the circumstances... Edmund felt heat rushing to his face as he remembered the very intense kiss.

He flinched as he tried tracing his fingers around the cut. He could feel the rough edges on his skin. The bleeding had stopped quickly, but from the looks of things, the cut was surely to scar. Sighing, Edmund sat up in his bed.

Last night, in frustration, he had just slept with his curtains drawn around the bed, but now, Edmund needed to move quickly before anyone could see the mark. He drew open the curtain just a bit before swiftly summoning his thin black woollen garment with a high, close-fitting neck. He put it on below his school robe, and after checking that it hid the mark, he stepped out of his bed.

It was the weekend, so his odd inclusion of the inner garment would not draw as much attention, he hoped. He also doubted the badly hung-over students of Hogwarts would care for one Slytherin’s strange appearance. However, just in case, Edmund avoided the Great Hall and headed for the library instead.

Malfoy was so inebriated last night that he could not tell the one he was talking to was not Potter. Most likely, he would not be able to recall Edmund’s face, but if it were the other case, it was best for Edmund to just stay out of Malfoy’s line of vision, for a while at least. He could not guess why Malfoy, the great foe of Gryffindors, would ever want to kiss their hero Harry Potter, but Edmund knew one thing for sure: he should _not_ get entangled in this miniature magical politics in Hogwarts. Lucy would have to deliver his breakfast to the library for him.

* * *

Draco’s eyes were practically lit on fire as they searched the Great Hall for that familiar raven hair. Frustratingly, the only things about the drunken mishap from last night he could remember were that the boy he kissed, thinking as Potter, had the same black hair as Potter (of course) and that he was carrying a large weapon-like book—the bruise he got from it had earned quite a few looks when he entered the common area, after recovering from vomiting.

But despite his passionate search around the room, the only head he could see with the colour he remembered vaguely from last night was Potter’s. Harry Potter, the fucking blood traitor, who was now kissing his bride-to-be and thereby earning himself another round of applause from his table buddies.

“Yuck,” commented Blaise beside Draco.

Draco tried carelessly snorting in disgust. He was not sure if he succeeded because Blaise was looking at him with some mixed form of concern and amusement on his face.

“You alright?”

“No. I feel mediocre, thank you. My head is killing me.” Draco answered partly in truth. Madam Pomfrey had fixed his head wound, so it was not there anymore, but his head, currently full of dread at the thought of his Potter-infatuation being possibly revealed publicly, was indeed killing him. 

Perhaps he should be thankful. Draco was so stressed that Potter and his revolting relationship were not bothering him for the first time. 

“Drink a bit of the tea, then,” advised Blaise.

Sighing heavily, Draco wordlessly received the cup of warm tea handed to him. But just as he began sipping on it, he saw a little red-headed girl in ugly Hufflepuff yellow approach the Slytherin table where all the fourth years sat. At a first glance, Draco thought she was one of the Weasleys (and was about to scowl hard), but he soon realized that there were no other female Weasleys in Hogwarts beside the one who just got engaged.

So, out of curiosity, he followed her cheerful demeanour to the table where she poked one of the girls sitting.

“Eleanora, sorry to interrupt, but do you know what my brother has for breakfast here?”

The Slytherin girl, Eleanora, did not seem startled at all by the Hufflepuff girl’s sudden presence but instead greeted the girl friendly, “Morning, Lucy.” She then proceeded to tilt her head in earnest consideration.

“I’m not sure what he gets exactly, but I’ve often seen him taking a bite out of toast, with jam I think. Why do you ask?”

The Hufflepuff girl, Lucy, shrugged while sighing playfully. “My dweeb of a brother wants his food delivered to the library. Apparently, he is too important to grace us all with his presence here.”

At that, Eleanora laughed quietly. Then she grabbed a couple of toasted bread slices and wrapped them in cloth. “Here. I’ve saved you some work. Now you only have to find jam.”

Lucy took the toast package and smiled widely. With the sun shining down on her through the windows, the girl looked like she was wearing an amber crown.

“Thank you, Eleanora. I’ll see you later then.”

“Later, Lucy.”

The girl in yellow then departed, heading outside the Great Hall.

Draco grimaced as he found some features of her freckled face familiar but could not remember from whom or what. He nudged Blaine and nodded toward the girl nearing the exit.

“Who’s that?”

Blaine stopped eating for a second as he raised his head, but after noticing who Draco was referring to, his gaze went back to his food on the plate.

“Lucy Pevensie in the fourth year. Quite famous around here, apparently. The girl likes befriending everyone, including us Slytherins. Pretty guileless, if you ask me.”

Draco’s brows furrowed. 

“Pevensie... Is she…?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s that muggle-born’s sister. Edmund Pevensie.”

Something like a gong rang in Draco’s ears. Edmund Pevensie, the top of his class, possibly the brightest wizard of this age, and a witness to Draco’s being dumped yesterday. _Of course_. Draco remembered the black head that he mistook as Potter’s in the library, and he became sure that the black head that he mistook as Potter’s in the courtyard had to be the same one.

In adrenaline-pumped haste, Draco looked around the hall to find the boy but to no avail. His mind began to whir in panic, but he soon remembered that the said boy’s sister had just walked out of the hall to deliver breakfast to the boy in the library. And of course, Pevensie would be in the library. When was he not?

Finishing his remaining tea in a hurry, Draco stood up. Blaine looked up.

“Where are you going?”

“The library. I… have some research to do.”

Blaine’s face crinkled a little. Sure, Draco had gone to the library for research before but only when he had big tests to prepare for. Definitely not on a normal weekend morning. It was mildly suspicious what Draco’s true intentions were. In the end, though, Blaine simply nodded and returned to eating; there was something desperate in the way Draco moved. It was best to let it go now and ask Draco later what this was really about.

Believing that he had fully fooled Blaine, Draco rushed out of the Great Hall. While his legs carried him to the library almost automatically, Draco busied his mind to come up with a plan of action. What would he do or say if he did encounter Pevensie? He would have to first check that the boy was bitten on the neck. Draco felt cold sweat forming on his back as he realised what it would mean if the boy did not. Either Pevensie was not the one he was looking for, or overnight the wound was healed, in which case Pevensie could deny everything even if he was the one Draco kissed last night. 

What if the boy did have the bite mark? Then what? Pevensie did not seem the type to talk a lot—nor was he received very well by his housemates in conversations, not that he was eager to join them in the first place—but Draco could not be so sure. They were both in the house of snakes, after all. Draco tried to imagine what the boy would even threaten him about. Perhaps, never to shag in the library again? That, Draco could easily do. There were plenty of other, more secluded locations he could use.

At the end of this simulation, Draco arrived at the entrance of the library. He inhaled sharply and then, exhaling, stepped inside. Unlike last evening, the desk near the entrance where Pevensie sat was empty, but walking in, Draco could hear faint, whispered noises further back. He passed by aisles of books as soundlessly as he could and neared himself the noise. When he was sure he was only an aisle away, Draco leaned close to the window, away from the hallway, and listened.

“Honestly, Edmund, what would Susan say?”

“Susan won’t say anything because she won’t know.”

“Fine! But promise me that you’ll tell me when something goes really wrong, alright?”

“I promise.”

“…”

“Look, it’s really nothing. Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you, of course! But ever since that… incident, you’ve been trying to hide your... _things_ from us and take care of them on your own.”

“Wow, Lucy, _things_? Is that what you call all my concerns?”

There was a sound of something being hit.

“Ouch, Lucy! That really hurt!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. But truthfully, there is _really_ nothing to worry about.”

“You can say that again when you take _that_ off and actually show me whatever it is you’re bothered with is gone. Not to mention that it looks silly on you.”

“All in due time, Lucy, and I, for one, think it’s quite fashionable.”

“Whatever, Edmund! I’ll be watching…”

“Alright, alright. Thanks for the food, Lucy, bye!”

Draco stopped breathing and hid himself as far as he could in the narrow corner where the bookshelf met the wall. There was a shuffling of feet. Soon after, he saw Edmund Pevensie pushing his little sister out of the library.

“You can’t hide things from me, Edmund! Not forever!” shouted the girl even to her last moment there.

After the Lucy girl left, Pevensie returned to his desk, yet unaware of Draco’s presence. Draco sneaked a glance behind the aisle he was hiding behind and saw that the boy was taking small bites of the toast as he read some kind of book. The book strongly resembled the one that had hit Draco last night.

Black hair, check. Book weapon, check. The only thing left was… And then Draco saw that Pevensie was wearing a high-neck garment inside his robe, which perfectly covered whatever mark there would be on the boy’s neck. 

Draco looked around the library and seeing that no one else was present, stumped toward Pevensie. The loud footsteps quickly drew the boy’s attention, whose eyes widened as he realized exactly who was walking toward him. Having never seen that big an expression on Pevensie’s face, Draco felt something like pleasure or satisfaction springing inside him. He stood next to the boy still in the chair and smirked down at him.

“You and I,” said Draco as he glanced at Pevensie’s covered neck, “we need to talk.”

Pevensie frowned and looked away. His eyes were set on the page about wounds that could not be healed by magic. Sitting on the edge of the desk, never taking his eyes off of Pevensie’s pale freckled face, Draco grabbed the other boy by his neck, laying his thumb right where he must have bitten. He felt Pevensie flinch, and the boy grimaced in pain. A small suppressed noise of struggle escaped through his sealed lips. He sharply turned his head toward Draco and glared furiously.

Draco continued smirking. He smelled snow. The pleasure he felt earlier increased.

“You can’t just ignore me,” he nodded toward the book, “You’re looking to heal _this_ here, aren’t you?” Draco said as he applied more pressure on his thumb on Pevensie’s neck. It was great watching Pevensie’s face contort.

Biting down on his lower lip, however, Pevensie looked away once more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy.”

He closed the book loudly and stood up, slipping away from Draco’s grasp in the process.

“Please stop wasting my time,” said Pevensie very sternly as he turned around, moving away from the desk with the book in his hand.

This hacked Draco off.

He grabbed Pevensie’s arm and pushed him against the bookshelf behind them, trapping the boy on all four sides, with Draco’s arms on the left and right.

“Who’s wasting whose time?” Draco snarled lowly.

Pevensie, who had bumped his head on the books, shook his head a little and met Draco’s fierce gaze. Instead of fear, there was fatigue in the way he looked at Draco. He sighed.

“Look, I don’t really care what kind of relationship you have with Potter.”

“There. Is. No. Relationship.” Draco gritted out immediately.

Pevensie raised his brow at that but raised, too, his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever. Just leave me out of it.”

The boy moved to get himself out of Draco’s arms, but Draco stopped him, locking him in even tighter than before.

He leaned in close to the slightly smaller boy and whispered next to Pevensie’s ear, “I don’t trust you.” He looked back up at the other boy to see him frustrated.

“What would I gain from telling anyone that you called Potter a hypocrite or… or you tried to bite him?”

“I don’t know, and that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you _know_ what I… intended to do with Potter, and I don’t like it. I need leverage that I know for sure would keep you shut.”

Pevensie sighed. “What do you want?”

That made Draco stop and think. What _did_ he want from Edmund Pevensie? He measured the boy from toe to head, and the raven locks easily caught his eyes. Then it hit him. This boy, who kept reminding Draco of damn Potter, ultimately caused Draco to break up with Pansy and knew about Draco’s sexual urges toward Potter, was a solution to all his problems. A perfect substitute.

Reaching that conclusion, Draco smiled, this time more invitingly.

“I want _you_.”

Edmund’s eyes widened. “What?”

Instead of a verbal explanation, Draco dove his head down swiftly and pressed his lips on the other boy's. 

This time, unlike last night, Pevensie was quick in his attempt to push Draco away, but Draco grabbed the wrists and pinned them tightly beside the boy's head instead. Then Pevensie tried to shake his head away from Draco, his lips closed in a thin line, like a fortress fending off an enemy attack. But Draco had never been the one to lose in a game, not without a fight of his own. He raised his one leg and nudged his knee upward between Pevensie’s. With his upper thigh contacting Pevensie’s crotch, Draco pressed forward.

That caused Pevensie to stop moving and inhale in surprise, his lips unsealed at last as he did. Taking his chance, Draco slipped in his tongue through them and tangled it around the other boy’s—with this boy, the element of surprise seemed to be the key, found Draco. 

Not so different from their previous kiss, tongues were heavily involved. Outside, Draco felt Pevensie’s breaths through the nose huffed on his face, and inside, he felt restrained—denied—moans of pleasure escaping from the boy’s throat and pulsating into his own. Draco kept his leg up and touching Pevensie. After a bit, he began circling the area gently and rhythmically, and this earned him a shudder from the other boy. Clearly, the boy had never been touched like this before if this was what stopped him from resisting physically.

When Draco sensed something hardening against the leg he was moving, he smiled and slowed the kiss, ending it with the final flourish of sucking off Pevensie’s lower lip with a pop. There was a lingering taste, or scent, of something fruity. Must be the jam, thought Draco.

Gazing down a little, Draco could see that Pevensie’s stygian eyes were now clouded. He gasped quietly for his breaths, and Draco pressed another short kiss on his lips before moving to the boy’s ear. He kissed the earlobe for a while, drawing out some more stifled sounds from Pevensie who also squirmed as their bodies became more closely attached.

Finally, Draco whispered, “You _enjoy_ this. That’s my leverage.”

When Draco pulled back his head, he saw that Pevensie’s eyes have regained their sharpness, but the expression betrayed his bafflement. Smirking, Draco nodded downward.

Pevensie followed Draco’s gaze and flushed as he noticed that he became erect from the interaction. He tried to push Draco away again, but the movement only caused Draco’s leg to touch around his arousal more. He gasped in both frustration and what Draco assumed as strange and humiliating pleasure. He raised his head and glared.

Draco noticed that Pevensie’s eyes were now tinged with pink around them and had teared up, making them glisten like a pair of black marbles. It was a pretty sight, Draco had to admit.

“ _This_ is your leverage? You’re just, just… taking advantage of something physiological!”

“So? It won’t make a difference when Veritaserum makes you confess you enjoyed being kissed and groped by Draco Malfoy, which, to be fair, is something hard not to enjoy. I've got great skills. But imagine what that will do to _you_.” Draco’s smirk turned crueller. “I’ll make you the mudblood slut of Slytherin, and your life here for the remaining time will be right bloody hellish. And imagine what that'll do to your poor darling sister.”

Pevensie gritted his teeth. “And a simple unbreakable vow was not an option because?”

Finally letting go of the boy and taking a small step back, Draco shrugged playfully.

“Wouldn’t have been so fun, now would it?”

He placed his hand on Pevensie’s neck once more and traced his index finger roundabout where he bit. Pevensie flinched automatically and Draco smiled wickedly in satisfaction. Then he dropped his hand straight down to Pevensie’s erected member and grabbed it abruptly. Pevensie gasped and then grabbed Draco’s hand too, almost instinctively. Whether it was to remove his hand or to keep it there was unclear.

Never taking off his smirk, Draco leaned close to Pevensie again, his mouth near the boy’s brows.

“Shall we go take care of _this_ now?”


	3. High enough (1)

Draco has had a few sexual adventures of his own in this magical institution named Hogwarts. That is to say, he had quite a lot. By now, his knowledge on which rooms were abandoned and which were useful for fucking around, figuratively and literally, had become near-complete (if he so dared to claim). So when he grabbed Pevensie's heated erection in his hand and rubbed its tip with his thumb, his mind knew exactly where the nearest, most private, enclosed space would be. Of course, he could definitely fuck the boy then and there in the library—and he certainly planned to in near future—Draco much preferred to undress and taste the meat slowly and delicately the first time, especially now what with Pevensie becoming his official Potter-sub.

“Malfoy, let, ah, go of this…!”

Pevensie whispered furiously as his own hands grappled with Draco’s to get rid of it, but the effort was clearly adding more stimulus. The spite seeped out from his voice with the shortened breaths. His eyes were watering more now, and Draco could see that the boy was barely withholding himself from collapsing, if the trembling of the body was any sign to go by. Draco couldn’t help but grin. This. Yes, this. Something about this raven-haired boy trembling beneath him with tearful eyes tugged at his primitive desire. The desire for conquest. It was lust at its finest.

When was the last time Draco felt like this before he admitted his damned crush on Potter? 

With one last stroke around the tip, which left Pevensie shrinking further into himself, eyes closing and body shuddering more violently, Draco let go of the member and instead grabbed Pevensie’s wrist, swiftly dragging him out the library. 

“Wha—wait, where are we going?”

The protest from Pevensie was weak. It seemed that most of his attention was on his attempt to hide his arousal with his robe, shielding it from everyone else’s sight in the hall. Fortunately (or unfortunately?), there was no one immediately outside the library. Just as well for Draco because where he was heading was only a few steps away. He swerved to the right of the cobbled hallway and approached the corner where a cobwebbed wooden door stood. He pulled the handle out and walked into the darkness of the room, pulling in Pevensie with him.

It was an old lecture room. Used far too long ago to be remembered by anyone besides perhaps those whom Draco shagged in the past. Few desks and chairs were scattered around the edges of the room, but most importantly, the mattress and blankets Draco expected were still there in the far right, hidden from the immediate view of those who may suddenly enter the room. With his fingers still around Pevensie’s wrist, Draco marched toward it unwaveringly and threw Pevensie down on the mattress.

The boy fell on his bottom with a stifled _umph_. He glared up at Draco. Then looking around, he quickly realized what they were here for. The light from the covered windows was very dim, but Pevensie’s panic was still largely evident on his face. Total disbelief that Draco would actually go through with his demands. He tried to stand up—to escape, Draco assumed—but Draco quickly mounted on top of him, the knees buckling him in tightly around the hip and the hands on the shoulder, not pushing but not entirely without force. 

* * *

“Malfoy, this is mad. You’re insane!”

Edmund barked desperately. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to physically resist Malfoy. Not only did the Slytherin Prince train himself through Quidditch practices, but he also seemed to know where exactly he should touch to make Edmund’s corporeal system malfunction. Amidst all the fearful apprehension he felt at the moment, Edmund also felt annoyance as he imagined just how Malfoy would have learned to do so. Regardless of whether he wished to or not, Edmund heard much about Malfoy’s crude sexual escapades. He never thought he would be subject to one of them. But here he was.

At Edmund’s comment, Malfoy simply tilted his head as if he was genuinely considering the idea.

“Maybe.” He answered.

His voice was raspy, and he furrowed his brows as if the thought he reached was unpleasant. Edmund felt a flicker of hope erupt, but it was quickly extinguished as Malfoy’s wicked smirk returned. He leaned forward, his head meeting Edmund’s at the eye level. He placed himself so close to Edmund that the tips of their noses were barely apart. Like sweet lovers about to share a chaste kiss. Almost.

Smirking fully, Malfoy grabbed Edmund by his chin and smashed their lips together. Edmund, in his effort to counter the move, raised his hands to push back Malfoy, but in the process, his unsupported upper body, too, fell on its back, leaving no further space for escape as Malfoy easily followed him down. The movement was so smooth that Edmund finally understood why Malfoy was called the prince among all the snakes. When his pale polished face inched near Edmund’s again, Edmund clenched his eyes shut, fearing the worst. But Malfoy’s lips were by his ears instead.

“Cooperate. It’ll wear you out less.”

The low raspy voice stroked Edmund's ear like a cool winter breeze, and as much as Edmund hated it, it made him shudder. Again.

Obviously having felt the shudder himself, Malfoy raised his body with a satisfied grin, no less sinister.

“Shall we get on with it then?”

Edmund swallowed, not knowing what to expect. When Malfoy pulled out a small knife from his pocket, Edmund’s eyes widened. Perhaps Malfoy's true intent with all the groping was to fool Edmund and hurt him when least expected. For a split second, Edmund doubted that not even Draco Malfoy would attempt homicide, but the same wicked glint was still there if not more intensified. Fear engulfed him, and Edmund struggled once more against Malfoy. Yet in addition to the knees straddling him, now Malfoy’s hand was pinning his left shoulder down, immobilising him.

“Let, me, go!” Edmund shouted in between his futile squirms to free himself.

“Stay still or I might _actually_ hurt you.” Malfoy gritted out through his clenched teeth.

When the knife came close to his neck, Edmund clenched shut his eyes again, not at all ready for what was to come. However, what followed was not a slit through the throat but a ripping noise down his collar. Malfoy was cutting through Edmund’s garment. From the high neck to the bottom hem.

This was somehow what pushed Edmund, more than the forced position he was in at the moment. Or maybe the relief triggered him to be bolder.

“This was the only high neck I had, Malfoy!”

The glint in his eyes now more amused than else, Malfoy smiled somewhat more genuinely as he answered carelessly, “I can buy you ten new ones.”

Edmund muttered, “I’ll hold you to that,” just as he noticed that Malfoy was again eyeing the left side of his neck. The mark. Edmund could see Malfoy’s grey eyes darken, what remaining rationality replaced by a storm of emotion. What kind of emotion, Edmund feared to guess. What was with the bite mark that set off Malfoy every time? 

Malfoy traced Edmund’s bare torso with his fingers, barely with any pressure. The cold and unfamiliar contact on his skin made Edmund flinch. But that did not stop Malfoy who leaned down once more, his mouth on Edmund’s neck. For a second, Edmund thought he was going to be bitten again, but there was no pain. Malfoy only laid a light kiss almost as if he was being careful. Unsure. When his face aligned with Edmund’s and Edmund could see the other boy’s glazed eyes, Edmund realized that Malfoy was looking at someone else. He remembered Malfoy kissing him the night before, mistaking him as Harry Potter. 

With the realisation came disgust. It irritated Edmund to no end that he was about to be fucked by Draco Malfoy because of whatever sick relationship, or lack of relationship, there was with Harry Potter. But just as Edmund was about to bitingly remark that he is _not_ Potter, Malfoy pressed his lips on Edmund's again, and the surprising tenderness of the kiss stilled Edmund. Unlike the previous two kisses which had been more animalistic and rough, this was affectionate. Slow. Cautious. Maybe even a little bit fond. And just a bit sad.

Before Edmund could fully realise what this meant or decide how to feel about it, the kiss was leaving where his lips were and was travelling down his face, his neck, the exposed mark, his shoulder, the curve of his clavicle, and finally his chest. Edmund’s mind could only focus on the path the kiss followed and nothing else. He did not notice that he had begun to breathe through his mouth and that his breaths were shaky.

Just then, Malfoy’s lips landed on the nipple and began suckling it, stopping Edmund’s breaths entirely. His body went rigid as Malfoy’s tongue circled around the areola, eliciting contact with the tip only occasionally, and his fingers that were somehow now grabbing onto Malfoy trembled, the boy’s own fingers continuing to feather down Edmund’s abdomen.

Edmund had to remember that he must breathe. He inhaled sharply. Mafoy’s movements did not leave a lot of room for a longer collection of breaths.

The lips were travelling down again, reaching Edmund’s navel and still further down, right at the waistline of his trousers. Malfoy’s chin was right on Edmund’s erection.

Yet to completely lose control over himself, Edmund tried to grab Malfoy’s head and pull him—up? Why was Edmund _pulling_ Malfoy? By Aslan, he should have _pushed_ —but Malfoy took hold of Edmund’s hands instead and, meeting Edmund’s eyes with his piercing gaze, laid a deep kiss on each palm, slowly and emphatically. So tenderly. It was a sensory overload, and if Edmund did not flush earlier, he definitely was now. He could feel the warmth surging to all ends of his body and with it, the last standing defiance in him crumbled away.

Taking Edmund’s distraction as his cue, Malfoy unbuttoned the trousers, which easily popped open due to the expanded member. Before Edmund could say or do anything, the boy was pulling down Edmund’s pants as well, all in one swift and smooth motion.

“What-“

Malfoy’s mouth swallowed the hot and throbbing member beneath the pants. Edmund, caught right between his words, sucked in a big whoosh of air as his head shot up in reaction to the sudden and enormous amount of pleasure he had never experienced before in his life.

As Malfoy began to lick and suck in earnest, Edmund really struggled (against what?). All he could manage was breathing out “wait” and “stop” repeatedly (and with difficulty—even as he shouted them Edmund was not sure whether he _really_ wanted Malfoy to wait or stop) while his hands clumsily groped Malfoy’s head for some kind of support, tussling that perfectly straight and platinum hair of his in the process.

Then, Edmund felt it. Rapidly, something inside urged to be discharged. The sensation could be compared, to Edmund’s utmost humiliation, to urination. Not so halfheartedly now, Edmund tried his best to push Malfoy’s persistent head away from him.

“Wait, Malfoy, ah! This is, this is weird! Something, ah, something’s coming, stop, _Draco_!”

He said in a desperate rush of words, but Malfoy did not budge. Rather, he seemed more resolute now to stay where he was, at ease and ready to suck in whatever was coming his way. His eyes carried a mysterious and dangerous glint in them as he watched Edmund thrashed about.

And Edmund came.

Malfoy was still there, sucking the mucus in and _swallowing_ — _drinking_ —the damned thing!

Watching Malfoy raise his head and wipe off the bit that he did not get in entirely, Edmund shook. Malfoy’s grey eyes never left Edmund’s. Finally, Malfoy smirked.

“Judging from your reaction, you’ve never even masturbated before, have you?”

Edmund ignored the jab, regardless of its truth (he just never felt the need to). Instead, as he regained his senses, he was more horrified by Malfoy’s actions than anything else.

“That—that is… _disgusting_.”

The smirk on Malfoy grew.

“You should be grateful.”

Aghast, Edmund stared. Then, Edmund realised.

The glassy look on Malfoy was gone. Whatever vision he was having from Edmund was gone. Malfoy was looking at Edmund as Edmund again. Something about that realisation twisted his insides in a strange—and certainly not appreciative—way. Lost for words, Edmund just kept staring. His breaths were still short. His chest inflated and deflated.

Edmund knew Malfoy was observing him as well. The eyes moved as they scanned the hair, now a bit sweaty and sticking round the forehead, the brows, the eyes, the nose, the lips, the neck… When the observant gaze landed on Edmund’s chest, still heaving, they shot up back to the eyes, piercing, again, through Edmund, so much so that he feared Malfoy would read his mind. Almost. The dangerous glint in Malfoy’s eyes disappeared. They were darkened. With what, Edmund was not sure—though he did feel the urge to escape once more.

Malfoy leaned in, his lips only an inch away, before Edmund stopped him. It was a reflex, a desperate one.

“You aren’t done?”

Malfoy smiled wickedly. He pushed forward, his lips near Edmund’s ears this time. He whispered.

“Oh, Pevensie, you wish.”

Instantly, his lips were on Edmund’s once more, no longer a chaste kiss but not as animalistic either. The hands that Edmund laid on Malfoy to stop him earlier were now grabbed as a lever to close their distance. It was a suckling kiss. A noisy one, too. Edmund managed to slip out a tired sigh in between the contacts. Chuckling at that, Malfoy whispered, more quietly than before, his lips brushing on Edmund’s.

“Got to make it entertaining for you, haven’t I?”

“This is _entertainment_ for you?”

He did not know why, but Edmund whispered back in fury. He could have yelled. Probably because Malfoy did not stop planting kisses on his mouth. He could not have possibly opened his mouth wider, or it would be tongues again.

What Edmund did not realise due to all his thoughts was the fact that Malfoy’s hand was now sliding behind Edmund, near the small of his back, and still further down. When he noticed, it was already inside the pants again, this time, its finger pressing between the crack of his bum.

“What in - ?!”

“Shh, darling,” Malfoy said in a mock sweet tone, “the real thing starts now. You won't be able to shut up then even if you wanted to.”

A finger pushed in. It was _inside_ Edmund. Edmund gasped. Both his hands were still caught by Malfoy’s other hand.

“Malfoy…” He angrily gritted out.

The finger went in and out. Each time it entered, it probed the inside with its tip, poking different spots. Malfoy whispered some kind of spell unfamiliar to Edmund and a slimy gel-like substance filled around the finger and made its movement much easier. Another finger slipped in. Unwanted noises began to form and escape Edmund. His head spun. Two fingers became three. They went in and out together, stretching the narrow inside, poking and pressing places. At some point, Edmund had bit down on Malfoy’s shoulder to silence himself. Malfoy did not seem to mind. Or notice at all. 

This violation continued until the fingers finally found what they were looking for. The zone. The sign of their discovery was immediate. As soon as they pressed on to that spot, Edmund’s eyes widened and there came an obscene sound from his throat. His face buried on Malfoy’s shoulder, Edmund could not see much, but he felt Malfoy’s fingers more deliberately moving, stabbing the zone they found, hindering any more coherent thoughts from Edmund, only blowing them away with the unexplainable sensation shooting up inside him and tingling. He could feel his member being aroused again.

He was heading toward the same moment of release as before. Yet, before there could be any release, Malfoy’s fingers stopped. They slipped out. Letting go of Malfoy’s shoulder, Edmund huffed, worn and (though he hated to admit) a bit unsatisfied. Raising his head, he saw Malfoy looking down at him. The smirk was gone. The boy licked his chops. There seemed to be a debate behind the intense gaze—a debate of an epicure, as to how he should eat his delicate meal.

One side clearly won out because Malfoy was quick on his actions again. He pulled off Edmund’s trousers and pants in one motion and readily grabbed Edmund’s erection, his thumb caressing it. As intended, no protests from Edmund came.

This one hand on Edmund, Malfoy used the other to pull out his own hardened member. It was red and bulging. Angry, nearly. Edmund, even in midst of his pleasure-bound silence, had to gasp as his instincts foretold what was about to happen. Malfoy nudged the tip of his penis on Edmund’s hole.

“Wait, no, Malfoy, you can _not_ \- !”

Too late. Malfoy pushed himself inside, albeit rather slowly and carefully but still forcefully, and the pressure silenced Edmund again. He gulped for air as Malfoy kept coming in. He punched Malfoy, his legs kicking anywhere and everywhere, and he shouted “STOP! TAKE IT OUT! TAKE IT OUT!” in tears. Him, Edmund in _tears!_ Malfoy simply bore through the physical attacks and caressed Edmund like some precious stone. He mumbled in a sweet, low voice, a voice unheard from him. Ever.

“Shh, there, there, I’m all in. I’m all in.”

As Malfoy stilled, Edmund stilled. He felt unreal. Him. The world. This moment. All of it. Unreal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this entire series has been inspired by K.Flay songs.

**Author's Note:**

> I will continue to upload The Snow King, but I just wanted to upload this shorter story before I get on to the longer series.  
> Apologies to anyone who was waiting for the TSK update. Give me 2 weeks! I'll be back.


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